


Jealous

by Cindé of Naboo (Matril)



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Character Study, F/M, Introspection, Reborn as a better man, Rescued from a magical sleep by his princess in shining armor, This is my Han Solo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-05
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-02-28 18:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13277412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Matril/pseuds/Cind%C3%A9%20of%20Naboo
Summary: How Han becomes the man Leia deserves.





	Jealous

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there! Life-long Star Wars fan here -- I've been writing SW fanfic for about seventeen years, but I've only just now decided to start posting some of it here. I lean mostly toward inner monologue and missing moments, though there's a somewhat silly AU I'll probably put up here soon. I love all six of Lucas's films, and the Skywalker family owns my heart. :)

Jealousy wasn’t an unfamiliar feeling for Han, but it had never been like this before.

Back in his smuggler days, he’d resented anyone who got a better deal than him. But the favor of a crime boss was a fickle thing, and he was just as likely to surpass his rival in the next job. His envy ebbed and flowed like everything in his life. Nothing was permanent; all that mattered was surviving from one job to the next.

In the Rebellion, he found something else that mattered. He found friendships that weren’t laced with the distrust of rivalry. He found a cause beyond his own self-preservation, and a reason to leave behind petty feelings like jealousy. There was, of course, plenty of competition still; lots of kids looking to prove themselves. But they celebrated each other’s victories without resentment — celebrated the united front they posed against the Empire.

During those early days in the Rebellion, even as Han noted vaguely that Luke might position himself as a rival for Leia’s interest, he was proud of the kid’s progress. He’d come a long way from his farmboy background, and he was becoming a more capable pilot and leader every day. It was especially gratifying when Luke would come to him for advice. He’d come to respect Han and his experience, and Han couldn’t help admiring his stubborn optimism, naive though it was. 

But then he’d gone to sleep and woken up to a new world. And his place in that world seemed very shaky.

He’d been off-balance from the moment he fell to the floor of Jabba’s palace, shaking and blind. No sooner did he find refuge in Leia’s arms than they were pulled apart again. He stumbled through the dank confines of a prison, trying to make sense of Chewie’s frantic explanations. Luke was masterminding this whole rescue? What had happened to him since they separated back on Hoth? And just how much time had passed, anyway? It might as well have been a hundred years.

Still half-blind and groggy, Han could do little more than dodge and duck in the confrontation that followed, catching an occasional bleary glimpse of Luke handily taking on five opponents at once, his weapon a blur of vivid green. Han’s only real accomplishment, meanwhile, was rescuing Lando from the pit. It was a well-aimed shot at the tentacle, sure, but hardly cause for gloating. And Boba Fett? That was nothing more than a lucky accident.

At least the Falcon was the same comfortable, familiar old ship. Aboard at last, Han ran his hands over the controls, seeking a sense of balance. His vision was still a bit blurred, but he could practically fly by touch. After they’d said their good-byes to Luke and flown into hyperspace, he settled back and took a deep breath. Still feeling shaky.

He wasn’t joking about owing Luke. The kid had more than paid off any perceived debt to Han. Could he really even call him a kid anymore? Han rubbed his eyes wearily.

“Hey.” Leia’s hand settled on his shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” he said, which was true. He glanced around and saw they were alone in the cockpit. He’d been so lost in his thoughts he hadn’t noticed Chewie and Lando leaving. “Thanks to you.” He gazed at her, drinking in every detail of her face. It seemed only a day since he was lowered on that platform into the freezing chamber, eyes fixed upon her. But how long had it been for her? How much had changed? “Seems like I’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

She nodded, her hand sliding down to rest atop his. “Do you want the short version or the long one?”

“Start with the short. We can fill in the details later.”

Even the brief account left Han completely floored. Chewie hadn’t been exaggerating about Luke being a Jedi. He had trained with some long-lost Master, then faced off against Darth Vader himself. Granted, he’d lost a hand in the process, but he survived. And then he masterminded Han’s entire rescue. 

Han found it harder and harder to listen as Leia elaborated on Luke’s incredible talent, resourcefulness and determination. Her eyes were shining; her tone was full of wonder. He shifted, pulling back a bit.

Leia stopped mid-sentence. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Yeah, it’s fine. I think I’m just tired.” He managed a grin. “Hard to believe. You’d think I’d gotten enough sleep for a lifetime.”

“I doubt it was very restful sleep,” she said wryly. “Get some rest. It’ll be a few hours before we reach the fleet.”

He obeyed, heading for a private compartment. But he didn’t sleep a wink.

He lay there on the bunk, trying to sort out this unsettling new sensation. He was jealous of Luke. Jealous of his accomplishments, of the way he had displaced Han as the most capable and experienced member of their group. And jealous most of all of the favor he had gained with Leia.

The feeling troubled him more than any of his old envies, because he knew, knew with absolute certainty, that Luke deserved all of it. He was unquestionably good and always had been. He’d never struggled with his loyalties or leaned toward selfish motivations like Han. He was a better man. Leia deserved a better man. He knew it, and hated it.

As long as Luke wasn’t around, he was able to shove his jealousies to the back of his mind to deal with some other time. He focused on their mission. He accepted the offer to lead the mission against the shield generator without hesitation. At this point it seemed second nature to go for the job with the worst odds. He couldn’t deny a moment of pleasure at the look of admiration it brought to Leia’s face. But the next instant Luke appeared, and she was running to him, embracing him, leaving Han with a sour taste in his mouth.

There were plenty of distractions after that. Lending the Falcon to Lando for his own possible-suicide mission, wondering if either one of them had any chance of surviving this, surprised to discover in the meantime that he had no residual anger about the betrayal on Bespin. Wistfully watching his ship through the window of the stolen Imperial shuttle, wondering if it was the last time. And there was Leia, warm and reassuring, and he allowed himself to hope that he’d only been imagining her admiration of Luke. Gone were all the flustered denials of her feelings for Han. She showed her affection openly, even happily. Why should he doubt? Why was he letting this pointless jealousy eat away inside him? In the face of such evidence as their sweeping reunion in the natives’ village, her eagerness to be near him, his worries began to melt away.

Then she left him, searching for Luke.

He found her alone on the bridge, broken-hearted, closed off to all of Han’s venturing questions.

He lost it. All the envy he’d been pushing deep down burst out past every barrier. “Could you tell Luke?” he demanded. “Is that who you could tell?”

She couldn’t even answer that much. She turned away. He was done. He started back inside.

Then he stopped.

He wasn’t the man he’d been before Bespin. He wasn’t just looking out for himself anymore. There were more important things than his own needs, his ego or his pride. The Rebellion. His friends. Leia.

Leia was more important than his pride.

“I’m sorry.” It was barely above a murmur. It might have been the most important thing he’d ever said.

So when the battle was over and Leia was gazing into the sky, strangely secure in the knowledge that Luke had survived, there was no question what Han needed to do. “You love him, don’t you,” he said. Not a question, not at this point. He understood. He knew what a good man would do. There was no room for selfishness in his feelings for Leia. “When he comes back, I won’t get in the way.”

Leia had a very odd look on her face. He couldn’t guess what was going through her mind as she pulled him close, not until she said, “He’s my brother.”

A moment of bewildered readjustments and reassessments, and then everything fell into place.

He’d never had anything to be jealous of. But he had conquered it anyway, and that was important. He wasn’t the man he used to be. Leia deserved a better man. He would do everything in his power to make sure she had him.


End file.
